


stars/sand

by figure8



Series: no modern jesus [2]
Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Kid Fic, No Plot/Plotless, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 15:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19403371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/pseuds/figure8
Summary: “I donothave baby fever,” Seokmin says pointedly.





	stars/sand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earthshaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthshaker/gifts).



> happy birthday bb 💕

Seokmin is sitting on the sofa in lotus position when Minghao opens the door, her hair up in a ponytail, Jun’s son in her arms. The baby is asleep, but she’s watching him so intently you’d think they’re having a telepathic conversation. Minghao’s stomach twists, an already tight knot _tightening._ She pulls out her phone and snaps a picture, mainly to distract herself from the fact she’s getting misty-eyed. The fake shutter sound gets Seokmin out of her rêverie, alerts her to Minghao’s presence.

“You’re babysitting?” Minghao raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall.

Seokmin beams at her. “I volunteered.”

“Okay,” Minghao chuckles. “Color me absolutely unsurprised.” One hand on the doorframe, she contorts herself to unclasp one shoe, then repeats the operation with the other, legs wobbly on five inch heels.

“Don’t say it.”

Minghao grins. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“I do _not_ have baby fever,” Seokmin says pointedly. “I just like Renjun. He’s _one_ baby.”

“Still not saying anything,” Minghao says, hands raised in surrender.

“You _also_ like Renjun,” Seokmin continues accusingly.

“I mean,” Minghao dumps her keys on the small table on her left, joins her girlfriend on the couch, “I’m his godmother. I’m legally obligated to love him. They made me sign papers and everything.”

Seokmin rolls her eyes, bumps their shoulders together. _Very_ softly. It wakes Renjun up anyway.

“Aw, shoot,” she swears under her breath. He doesn’t cry, just stares up at her in annoyed confusion, nose adorably scrunched up.

“Give him to me,” Minghao demands, extending both hands.

“He’s going to burp on your leather jacket.”

“I’ll survive.”

She sings to him in careful Mandarin, rocking him gently. He doesn’t end up burping on her, but he _does_ drool a copious amount. When she turns to look at Seokmin she finds Seokmin staring back already, eyes deeper than a fairytale well.

“You’ll be a really good mom one day,” Seokmin says, voice small. Inside Minghao the tide rises. This is a quiet, devastating love.

She feels herself blushing. It was an observation, not a conversation starter, but she deflects anyway.

“Can you take a Snapchat video? Just put it on your private story, I _know_ Jun is compulsively checking his phone.”

“You’re awful,” Seokmin giggles, iPhone already out. Minghao just kisses the top of Renjun’s head. His hair is so, so soft. He smells like talcum powder and Jun’s favorite fabric freshener. She knows that scent, borrowed the box _way_ too often when her and Jun were roommates in uni.

“Injunnie,” she whispers. The air she blows with her word makes him gurgle happily. Babies are so easy to please.

Seokmin’s phone pings. “Barely eighty seconds,” she smirks, victorious. “Record time.”

Minghao sits back down next to her. “Why do they even _go_ on dates if they’re going to spend all night worrying we might misplace their child?”

Seokmin types something very quickly and then turns her screen towards Minghao. Her last sent message says _FOCUS ON YOUR HUSBAND!!!_

“You _did_ kill a cactus in college,” she points out.

Minghao boops Renjun’s nose and coos, “Auntie thinks I’m going to let you _die_ of _thirst_ and then hide your empty pot behind the fridge.”

“That is very disturbing, Minghao,” Seokmin laughs. “Please give me back the baby.”

It takes fifteen minutes of pretending Renjun is a plane to get him to fall asleep again. Seokmin clearly has a gift, because Minghao has _never_ managed to convince the little demon to let her hold him above her head without launching the scream-pocalypse.

Seokmin’s eyes go wide and happy at the first tiny snore. She bends down to press a light kiss to Minghao’s temple. “I’m gonna put him to bed, give me a sec.”

Minghao moves to the kitchen while she waits for her. It’s a small apartment and every room reflects that. In the kitchen that translates to not enough cabinets, and a countertop Minghao’s mother would disown her for considering acceptable. It doesn’t really matter considering she never really has time to cook, but _that_ too would make her mom go _apeshit._ On her tippy toes, she fishes two mismatched wine glasses from the top shelf, and a bottle of Moscato from the fridge. When Seokmin pokes her head through the door, hair down this time, Minghao is holding two full glasses of rosé.

“Oh my God,” Seokmin sighs, “My savior.”

Minghao steals a quick kiss before giving her the wine. “Hi, baby.”

Seokmin gulps down half her glass, swallows audibly. “Hi. I had a terrible day, actually, but then -- baby!”

 _Holding the baby_ , as they’ve discovered recently, cures all psychological ills. Minghao strongly suspects that does _not_ apply when you have to deal with it 24/7, but it works marvels for them, and it’s free babysitting for their friends, so.

“Wanna tell me about your terrible day?”

“Later,” Seokmin says, taking a more reasonable sip this time. “When we’re in bed. I have this fantasy, okay, listen to this, it’s super freaky.”

Minghao huffs fondly. “I’m listening.”

“We get in bed. We switch off the lights. We _don’t_ put an alarm. We fall asleep immediately. And, get that: it’s barely 10 PM.”

“You’re right,” Minghao cackles, “That’s downright obscene.” She’s not even really joking.

“But like,” Seokmin tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, “Get me drunk and I’ll be down for oral first, or whatever.”

Minghao just laughs harder. “That’s super problematic.”

“I know,” Seokmin grins. She hooks her pointer finger in one of Minghao’s belt loops to pull her closer. The inside of her mouth tastes like wine and the faintest hint of toothpaste when they kiss.

Minghao blinks, incredulous. “Did you _brush your teeth_ after you put Renjun to bed?”

Seokmin flushes bright red. “I knew you’d want to make out!”

“We’ve been dating for two years! I kissed you when you had the flu!”

Seokmin hides her face at the junction of Minghao’s neck with her shoulder, giggling. “That was a terrible idea, by the way. I don’t even remember that kiss and all you got out of it was a fever and a higher chance of developing antibiotic resistance.” Minghao goes to pet her hair almost reflexively.

“I love you,” she says. Seokmin raises her head, irises sparkling, opens her mouth --

Static crackles through the baby monitor and then Renjun starts _screeching._

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Seokmin says, horrified. “I forgot his evening milk. Oh my God, _I_ am the cactus murderer.”


End file.
